thuis? this is not 'thuis'.
the return has become a mechanical procedure
land, luggage, ticket, train, victoria, train, taxi, home.
you become inmeresed in a haze where you stand still and everything else moves around you, in the form of anthropological blurs and stumbling.
it is so mechanical, i want to curl up in a ball in my knitted throw wearing all my scarves and three pairs of socks for optimum warmth and weep for three days in a row.
the energy and cheeriness i had stocked up on these last few days are rapidly being sucked out by the negative enviroment now that i sit in my room in thought, barely unpacked.
this is called emotional osmosis.
as the plane was ingested by the grey thickness and the idyllic sunset disappeared between tufts,
i took refuge in the thought that this will be the third-last time i'll be going back to maidstone.